


The Andorra Treaties...

by malu (orphan_account)



Category: MotoGP RPF, Motorcycling RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: BDSM, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Revenge, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-04-28 23:32:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5109539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/malu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Because while the incident has made the fandom itself unbearable for me, I totally LOVE the inspiration for writing... so all the things inspired by Sepang 2015 (hopefully including fills for your requests eventually) will go here :)</p><p>Sorry for being AWOL, I had my first big injury (phew, this season has gone much better than the last!) this week and I've been way too dizzy from all the painkillers tbh. ♥</p><p> </p><p>  <b>Not real! Just playing!</b></p><p>1st chapter is set in the Marc/Jorge and Dani/Vale 'verse from here http://archiveofourown.org/works/4706735/chapters/11202001</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Why?

**Author's Note:**

> Because while the incident has made the fandom itself unbearable for me, I totally LOVE the inspiration for writing... so all the things inspired by Sepang 2015 (hopefully including fills for your requests eventually) will go here :)
> 
> Sorry for being AWOL, I had my first big injury (phew, this season has gone much better than the last!) this week and I've been way too dizzy from all the painkillers tbh. ♥
> 
>  
> 
> **Not real! Just playing!**
> 
> 1st chapter is set in the Marc/Jorge and Dani/Vale 'verse from here http://archiveofourown.org/works/4706735/chapters/11202001

”Thank you,” Marc unceremoniously collapses on the couch in hospitality and reaches for a bottle of water.

Dani leans against the wall and tries to read his younger teammates face. Something he’s done countless times, but mostly without reasonable result. Enough media training has made the younger unreadable, his expressions usually schooled, hiding any emotion that runs too deep, gives away too much. He’s biting his lip, yes, but Marc always does that. Dani takes in the beads of sweat, the damp hair. _At least, I’m not the only one suffering with this damned weather._ Dani’s eyes glance over Marc’s hands. His fingers are fidgeting and that says a bit more, gives away the nervousness, the restlessness. Because Marc’s hands aren’t quite as controlled. As calculated.

”Why would you thank me?”

Dani asks softly, not sure if he will get a reply at all. Much less an honest one. Staring at his feet and shaking his head slightly over the craziness of these past days, he sits down next to Marc. He leaves a gap between them. A distinct one. Trying to say that he’s there for the other without pressuring him. It’s difficult, Dani thinks, being there for this Marc Marquez who, as far as Dani can tell, has been taught to shield himself from the world a bit too often. Dani wants to though, because he can’t help caring about the kid, who isn’t quite a kid anymore. He feels a strange responsibility. Like an older brother maybe. They hadn’t had the best first season together, but at some point, they connected and the grief about one small mistake from such a young rider wouldn’t keep Dani from noticing the kind and vulnerable human being behind that carefully set up mask.

”For what you said during the conference. I watched. It’s… I’m glad you think that way.”

_Oh. Right. I took sides._

Dani isn’t one to pick sides, not usually. He felt he had to today and he can’t even say why. After his hotheaded earlier days, he has learned to keep quiet. Diplomatic. He’d say cowardly, but then the media people would scold him again. And Dani learned the hard way, especially after that handshake disaster. But today, he had to bite his tongue not to yell. At least, he didn’t yell in front of the cameras. What happened in Vale’s motorhome is something else. Something he probably won’t tell anyone anytime soon.

”Of course. It had to be said. He’s been an idiot towards you the entire weekend.”

”Yeah… but still. I mean, you guys… I don’t want to be standing between the two of you.”

Marc even blushes and Dani can’t even. He gulps and quickly goes back staring at his own hands instead of Marc’s innocent face.

”Don’t worry, we’re both old enough… even if one of us isn’t behaving like it right now.”

 _Or not ever again?_ Dani tries to wipe the bitterness away, tries to think of better stuff. Like winning the race. And yeah, it only makes him furious at Vale again, because sure enough the idiot ruined Dani’s victory. It’s not like it matters now. Not to anyone.

”Congrats by the way, you had a great race.”

_Trust you to prove me wrong on everything._

Dani could cry about the genuine affection in Marc’s voice, could hug and squeeze the younger. Instead, he curls into his corner of the couch and shrugs.

”Yeah, it’s okay.”

Marc gives him a concerned glance but doesn’t speak. _And I didn’t quite encourage you, did I?_

”You’re not with Jorge tonight?”

”I- uh-“ Marc coughs and Dani turns to look at him, finding him adorably red-faced. “Jorge and I thought we shouldn’t… you know… we’re being watched so closely and this is like the last thing we need right now.”

”Ah, okay,” Dani nods to himself. “You didn’t really help him, right?”

_Shit. That’s something I shouldn’t even think. And I don’t even really think it? Do I? Vale is so far inside of my brain…._

”Do you really believe I’d do that?”

Yeah, as guarded as the younger usually is, the hurt in his voice is unmistakable now.

”I’m sorry… no, not really. It’s just… Vale has been bickering about you two ever since he found out. I guess it’s starting to rub off against my will.”

”I’m sorry,” Marc is mumbling now, still sounding like a wounded deer and Dani just wants to hit himself.

”_You_ are not the one who has to be sorry here.”

”But I am… And I don’t understand Vale’s problem, you know? I really don’t get it. I mean, you guys even invited us for the ceremony, so he seemed to be okay with us. What changed his mind?”

_I wish I knew. Believe me, I wish I knew._

”I guess he’s just too tense, too worried. I think he considers it his last chance for that tenth title and to be honest, he seems to become more and more paranoid.”

Silence falls upon them and Dani wonders how long they’ve been sitting here in the first place. If he should be going somewhere. Why nobody searched for either of them yet. But then, it’s just a strange day and there’s probably no reason why it shouldn’t stay strange.

”Dani,” Marc’s voice sounds alarmed, cuts through the air and makes Dani spin his head around, “why is your engagement ring gone?”

_I want the fire back_


	2. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in the Mirrors 'verse, right after this http://archiveofourown.org/works/4706735/chapters/11672227

”But how can you still trust me?”

The words are hanging between them and Vale buries his face in his hands, elbows propped up on the dinner table. Both of their plates are almost untouched and that’s certainly not the cook’s fault.

”Listen, I just do, okay? I know that ultimately, you wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.” Marc’s voice sounds tired and Valentino can’t even blame him, not after the younger has explained the same thing over and over.

”But that’s not true,” he wants to, but can’t, keep himself from interrupting, inserting doubt, “I mean, I could have killed you during that race. Killed you, Marc.”

”On track. Maybe. Wouldn’t have been your fault only though. It was an aggressive battle. And you snapped and that happens to all of us. You’ll pay the price, trust me. But that was on track, do you hear me? We said we’d separate on and off track and I know that off track, you’d never do anything like-“

”But I did, I just did,” Vale feels desperate, can’t understand why Marc won’t see just how dangerous this is, “I made you use your safeword.”

For a moment, the room is silent and Vale, who still has his face in his hands, almost thinks Marc is walking away when suddenly he hears footsteps approach him, feels Marc’s fingers against his cheek.

”You idiot,” Marc says with a soft chuckle – a sound Vale wouldn’t believe Marc could make, so different from his usual trademark laugh – “That’s what safewords are made for. Using them.”

Valentino feels the other press soft kisses to his hair before he continues, “And I used mine last night, yes, for its intended purposes of letting you know that it was getting too much. And you stopped. So everything went as it should have. You stopped, you held me, we both had an amazing night. Also, even if you can’t believe it, I do understand you even on track. I understand the pressure, the taking of the last straw. Of course I do and who knows, I might do the same if I ever end up in that situation.”

_No you wouldn’t. Because you’re strong. And a good person._

”And yes, I trust you, Valentino.” When Marc continues this time, his voice is darker, lower, rumbling through the room and making the older rider shiver. “The question here is… do _you_ trust _me_?”

_*later that night*_

Vale shudders as the cool breeze from the air con ghosts over his body. His very much exposed body. It’s all because of their talk, because of trust. Because he said he wanted to prove to Marc just how much he trusts him. Maybe it’s sort of redemption for everything that happened, too, but mostly it’s Vale’s stubborn self wanting to proof a point. Though he regrets it bitterly at the moment.

Marc had suggested this, a role reversal. And the older had agreed, albeit reluctantly. Now, he’s bend over a chair, tied to it. His mouth is held open with a gag, the same kind he already hated when Alvaro used them. He’s not sure how Marc even knows this, but it seems the younger has set up all of Vale’s most feared elements for this one session. From being tied down to being gagged and he even blindfolded him. For the Italian, it means that he’s currently blind, in complete darkness behind a piece of black silk, his hands on the floor, attached to the feet of the chair, his ass sticking up. Marc has put a bar between his ankles, made sure his whole ass would be exposed.

He’d thought about using his safeword, but then he _wants_ to trust Marc, so badly. Wants to overcome the issues he’s been fighting for all these years. Even if it means that in this very moment, he’s panicking, breathing heavily.

”Shh, you’re okay.” Marc’s voice, even, soothing. Marc’s hand runs down his spine, sensation unexpected and tingly. “Try to relax. This will be a bit uncomfortable.”

Vale feels the pressure against his hole and even with his years of experience, it takes him a moment before he stops clenching against the intrusion. Whatever it is, it’s cool and slick, but also very wide. Marc stays right, it _is_ uncomfortable. By the time the pressure doesn’t increase anymore and the _thing_ is bottomed out, Vale is covered in sweat and his body trembles. He’s also drooling. It’s degrading, which is just why he’d begged Alvaro to stop using gags. They were always reserved for the most severe punishment only, but then, Vale doesn’t doubt that’s exactly what he deserves.

”Here’s the keys,” following Vale’s own examples, Marc presses a key ring in his clenched fingers, “if you need this to stop, just toss them and I’ll free you.”

He nods and for a moment, thinks he’ll just drop them immediately. He doesn’t though and then hears Marc’s footsteps, moving farther away.

The panic comes back, hitting him with full force now. What if the younger just leaves him here? Doesn’t even stay around? His breathing quickens again, his chest heaving rapidly. In his head, he repeats that he trusts Marc, that Marc has done nothing wrong. Still, the panic is slow to subside, cold sweat covering his body again.

_I love you. I really love you. There’s no one else I’ve ever let do something like this, not even Alvaro. And I’m not dropping these keys, I’m not failing you or us tonight._

He would grit his teeth if he could. As it is, he can only drool and shudder under ever-present cool breeze, his face strangely hot because of the exposure. His ass hurts and the more his nerves calm down from the acute panic, the more he feels the stretch, the burn. Marc must have used a rather wide and short plug. Vale isn’t as used to bottoming as he was and right now, it feels a lot like being impaled. He wriggles slightly in his restraints, tries to ease the pressure, but of course with no result.

If the beginning is anything to go by, this will be along night.

 _Now through the smoke he calls to me_  
_To make my way across the flames_


	3. Push me to the Floor (I/III)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm better but not quite okay yet. So bear with the waiting please, I'm struggling with typing at the moment ♥
> 
> And thank you so much for the sweet wishes ♥
> 
> (S light warning: I'm not fixing this scenario...)

“Marc, you knew he’d do that one day. Just move on, don’t let him mess with you.”

Marc sits there, words from the interview still echoing in his head. _Spoilt. Huh. A traitor?_ When he looks up, Dani is staring at him, eyes pleading.

”Let it go,” the older says. And, “Here, let’s have a beer together, relax.”

 _So Dani Pedrosa is asking me to have a beer with him, on a Thursday night, on a race weekend. Well, that’s new._ Marc thinks about the circumstances, dry smile tugging on his lips. _How ironic… I’d have given everything for this a couple of years ago. But well…_

”No, thanks,” he says, his eyes already darting towards his wardrobe. “I think, I have another idea.”

”Marc, just… Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”

”Oh,” the younger smiles devilishly, “I’m sure I won’t regret this. Not at all.”

_Should have done this sooner anyway._

***

He doesn’t need that long to get ready once Dani has left him to himself, not without a final warning to leave Vale be. Well, Marc isn’t planning on seeing Vale tonight anyway. A final look in the mirror and an approving nod, a practiced coy smile. He’s all too aware that messy hair suits him in the first place and he also knows she likes casual. In fact, he’s never missed the way she’d look at his ass when he’s wearing jeans. So denim it is, the white T-Shirt deliberately tight. And he’s more than happy with the result.

Finding her won’t be that difficult either, she’s outside smoking rather frequently and Marc knows he’s taking a bit of a risk stalking her here, in front of _their_ hotel, but it feels like beating Vale on his own ground and right now, that only makes it better. _Like winning Misano._

Hidden behind some potted palm trees, he doesn’t have to wait long before she arrives and yeah, he’s lucky, too. Though the risk was a calculated one, as he knows Vale is in physio right now. So, she’s alone, eyes on her phone. Marc watches her, brown hair moving with the wind and eyes behind dark shades. She _is_ gorgeous, no doubt about it. And she has been flirting with him, no doubt about that either. He secretly wonders whether that’s why Vale has changed in the first place. Either way though, Marc thinks coolly, the Italian crossed the line. And he’d pay.

Pushing his own sunglasses up, he walks up towards her, his broadest smile plastered on his face.

”Ciao, Linda. Bored all by yourself?”

***

He pins her down by her wrist, sucks a mark on her collarbone. The satisfaction of knowing what that’ll do to Vale feels beautiful and makes even more adrenaline rush through his body.

Under him, she’s mewling, her legs hooked around his waist are pulling him in further. Marc complies, eagerly, pushing harder, faster. He’s greedy, so greedy for this, every second so fulfilling, so liberating. He groans into her neck, inhales her scent, mixed with the overall smell of sex around them and it makes him even harder, even needier. 

Usually, he prides himself on being a considerate lover, one who indulges in foreplay and gives and takes equally. Tonight, he ravishes her, his own pleasure the only objective, his moves harsh and almost violent. Her nails are drawing blood, clawing to his back, but the sounds she’s releasing are unmistakable noises of content and arousal, the little moans and whines, the breathless pleas for more. And who would Marc be to deny her that?

***

She uses his shower afterwards, Marc having ripped an orgasm and an entire string of swears from her. When she leaves, she presses a kiss to his forehead before she sneaks out. The smile on her face is sweet, almost shy. _Maybe we can do that again?_ The words echo in Marc’s brain and make him grin. Now, it’s been damned hot, but he still doubts there’ll be a replay anytime soon.

He stretches his muscles on his way to the shower and before stepping under the water, he takes a clumsy selfie of his back, long marks from her nails and a darkening bruise in his neck well-visible.

_I think your kitten needs some taming._

He doesn’t even think twice before he sends the picture and the caption. And he’s beyond satisfied, leaning against cool tile, hot water running over him. The images of the night and his vision of how Vale reads his texts and finds out, it’s enough to make him hard again, almost forcing him to jerk himself off. He’s quick to rip his second orgasm out of himself, his moves raw and driven by insane desire.

When he’s toweled dry and ready to slip under the covers, he takes a last look at his phone. It’s not a surprise that there’s a text from Vale waiting.

_This means war._

Marc snorts and curls up in his sheets, her scent reminding him of his victory. _Maybe this is war, but at least I wasn’t the one who started it._

 _Push me to the floor_  
_Don't give up until I'm begging you for more_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song by the Parlotones


	4. Push me to the Floor (II/III)

”Not so bad?”

”Yeah. Could have been worse.” Marc turns to check out the bruises on his back in the floor length mirror, doing his best to ignore Emilio, who is pacing through the room.

”Marc, he kicked you off your bike. Kicked! How can you possible say it’s not so bad?”

The young rider flops down on the couch with an exasperated sigh, reaching for his hoodie.

”It’s just a payback. I guess it’s kind of deserved.”

When he looks up, Emilio is staring at him with his jaw dropped.

”Deserved?” For a second, he thinks the older is going to blow up, but then, as if he suddenly remembered something, a shadow crosses Emilio’s face and his eyes change, suddenly piercing Marc intently. When he speaks, his voice is calm, measured. And Marc knows it doesn’t mean anything good. “Marc Marquez, what have you done to deserve this?”

Evading his manager’s gaze, Marc reveals the facts. The following outburst is not unexpected and he ignores it with his years of practice. Whatever the older yells, it’s been so worth it, Marc thinks and he has to bite his lip, hard, to avoid smiling. Because not only has he relished every second of it, he even has a new idea, one he’ll live out first thing in Valencia.

***

The atmosphere at Cheste is different, so different, from the years before. Everything is glistening and vibrating with tension and nerves and there’s an underlying aggression that’s definitely unprecedented. Marc couldn’t care less. He avoids Dani’s and Emilio’s concerned glances, their worried questions. Because Marc wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t have a plan.

Stalking _him_ is slightly more difficult than chasing Linda, he realizes, as obviously, the younger is taken better care of. Better – but not perfect. Even Uccio only has two eyes and Marc finally manages to corner _him_ , alone, behind his own motorhome. It’s not unusual for him, looking up to someone younger than himself, it’s a bit like facing Alex. A thought he better bleaches from his brain, immediately, because it wouldn’t make this mission any easier.

The boy – and well, Marc thinks he still gets to call him a boy – is shy at first, smiling awkwardly, fidgeting. He’s obviously clueless how to deal with Marc, who is more experienced, more successful – and in the middle of a raging war with his half-brother. But eventually, after a bit of small talk, a few jokes and a number of seductive smiles and winks, he loosens up beautifully. And Marc doesn’t mind taking up this challenge, because really, he’s a beautiful boy. Tall, lean, radiant eyes and a cute smile. Could be worse. Definitely.

At first, the younger refuses Marc’s invitation, but eventually, the promise of a drink and a playstation lure him straight into the older rider’s motorhome.

It’s ridiculous, Marc thinks, just how easy it is from then on. They share a coke, talk some more. He scoots closer on the couch, his fingers tentatively on the boy’s thighs, _accidentally_ moving up. Being a teenager, the almost non-existent touch seems enough to make him blush and flinch. Marc finds it adorable.

”So, Luca, have you ever done anything with another guy?”

Marc is not overly surprised that he has, indeed, experimented in that direction. Reliable sources told him as much, were the only reason Marc came up with this idea in the first place. When he moves to straddle Luca, hands already pushing up the yellow T-Shirt, thumbs rubbing over hardening nipples, the younger already bucks up against him. And Marc doesn’t miss that he’s hard. So everything is going according to plan.

***

Fucking Luca is even better than fucking Linda, Marc realizes, the younger coming undone under him beautifully. His lean body, glistening with a sheen of sweat, is writhing in Marc’s sheets and his eyes are rolling back, while he moans, in the most sensual way Marc’s ever heard someone or anyone show their pleasure.

And he’s responsive, so very responsive. It’s delightful, the way he reacts to every tiny touch, each barely there ministration. His body shudders and quivers and Marc could fall for him, just like that, pale skin, long legs and everything. If the circumstances were different, he’d definitely at least want a repeat. But well, things are as they are, he thinks, somewhat wistfully, speeding up his thrusts another notch. Luca wails, because Marc is aiming for his prostate very deliberately now and since torturing the younger is not his intention, he wraps his hand around him and brings him over the edge – an easy task right now.

There’s that moment, afterwards, when Marc has come and pulled out and both their afterglows have worn off, where it’s slightly awkward. Where Luca looks at him, his eyes unguarded, trusting, hopeful – and probably waiting for an invitation to spend the night. Marc has to swallow hard for a moment, because well, Luca is a cute guy. And a quite nice one, too. And Marc really wouldn’t mind him staying over under other conditions. Still, the invitation never comes and Luca catches himself quickly, hurries to take a shower and leave. Marc still manages to snatch a quick picture of a disheveled teenager with a MM93 towel around his waist. Luca urges him not to tell or show anyone and Marc feels guilty again, at least for a moment.

Nevertheless, the younger has barely left the motorhome when the message is on its way to Vale, photo captured nicely. _Look what I found at the track today. Seems a nice guy to talk to._

***

This time, there’s no reply from Valentino at all, not a single reaction. It’s making Marc nervous, when he’s honest, because he’s more than sure that Vale will at least try to make him pay.

Emilio and Dani seem to sense that something has happened, both prodding carefully. Marc tries to hide his satisfied grin a bit better and keeps plotting ways to avoid his nemesis, still expecting to be attacked in some way. _I wonder what you have in store now…_

_I’ll be thinking of the time_  
_I felt inspired_


	5. Push me to the Floor (III/III)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I loved writing this a bit too much ;)

Vale takes his time to make up his mind, plan his next steps. Under Uccio’s worried glances and with Jorge’s eyes piercing his back most of the time, the Italian plots his revenge. Thoroughly and recklessly and without hesitation or doubt. Yes, he knows that it will ruin things further, but part of him isn’t even sure it could get worse. Is there even a superlative of hating someone? With an evil cackle that gets him another death stare from Uccio, Vale thinks that if that superlative doesn’t exist, it should be invented now, for Marc and himself. As he’s sure their relationship deserves _that_ title any time now. And it’s Saturday night, sun setting already, when he’s finally made up his mind and picked his strategy, when he stalks through _his_ hotel like a lion stalking its prey.

***

”It’s all your fault.”

Marc barely escapes the fist that’s aimed at him, shrugging towards his father who is shooting him a questioning look. In the corner of the room, Emilio is lighting himself a cigarette, evading Marc’s gaze.

”I hate you so much.”

Marc escapes another attempted punch.

”Alex, listen-“

”I don’t want to listen to you. I hate you. And him. But I hate you more. Why couldn’t you just let go? Why did you have to keep pushing? Why can’t you ever just stop and think of anyone else but yourself?”

Marc looks at his younger brother who has now sunk down onto the bed, eyes red-rimmed and all in all, a pitiful image. He feels slightly guilty, but most of all, he’s furious. Absolutely furious, his blood boiling with anger. They’d all seen the picture Vale had sent to Alex, the one where an obviously sated and thoroughly debauched looking Alex Rins is curled up in Valentino’s sheets. And yeah, Marc should have seen that coming, should have known that Vale wouldn’t go for his brother but for something even better. _Fucking my brother’s boyfriend… well… I must admit that you truly are the bigger bastard._

Under the others’ angry stares, Marc leaves the room with another shrug. At least, he thinks with a satisfied smile tugging on his lips, _I have a say in that title decision… and that trophy is not going to Italy, not as long as I’m still alive enough to stop you._

***

Valentino slams a fist into the wall of his motorhome. _He actually did it. Took it away. That little son of a bitch._ He’s growling and pacing and so furious, he could literally blow up. And he’s sent them all away, his crew, Uccio, Linda. He’s yelled and screamed and shouted for them to go away, to leave him be. _You have to go there,_ Uccio had said. Vale snorts. After all, he is Valentino Rossi. He doesn’t have to do anything. And tonight, he’d rather be dead than at that gala.

He’ll need a new plan, a new idea. One that beats fucking Rins. The memory makes a smile flash up on Vale’s face, thought of the younger unravelling for him, begging for his cock. The Spaniard had been a sight to look at, all beautiful lean muscles and he’d been riding him like a pro… Vale almost feels jealous of the little Marquez who probably has had that pleasure more than once before. But it hadn’t been enough… after today’s race, Vale needs more… 

*

It’s later, half a bottle of Vodka emptied carelessly, that a new plot forms in his head. A better one than the last even. A _perfect_ plot actually. A barely-there but nonetheless evil smile won’t leave his face while he dresses up again, plays through the possible scenario for the night to come.

The thing is, he ponders while he’s sitting in the taxi, headed for _the_ club, knowing exactly where to find his target, the thing is that he is actually good at reading people. Vale is pretty sure most people don’t realize it, but behind his playful personality, he has a very observing brain. And he just _knows_ how to mess with people and he never fails to find someone’s weak spot. He sure knows about Marc’s…

*

”Oh God, more, please.”

The man under him is panting and writhing, squirming in Vale’s hold, while the Italian pins him to the bed by his hips. He obediently moves his mouth, up and down, playing with his tongue just the way he’d like it done himself. Not that Vale is exactly fond of giving blowjobs, but tonight he doesn’t mind, doesn’t want to miss out on the one opportunity to take the one person that Marc cannot have. So he gives it his best efforts, the thought of Marc’s reaction when he finds out spurring the Italian on. He’s deeply satisfied when his companion shoots his load down his throat, the bitter taste of come never having been as sweet as tonight.

”I want you,” Vale growls, his tongue flicking over the older man’s ear and he feels him shudder underneath him, legs falling open willingly.

”You can have me,” the man says breathlessly and it sounds like a plea, one Vale is quite eager to fulfill.

Vale fucks him rough and fast and each thrust is a victory, each moan is made of pure win. It’s making him fly so high on endorphins and adrenaline, better than any sex he’s ever had. Though he doesn’t exactly last long, not with gut-deep sensation of satisfaction, the knowledge that the treason, _this_ particular treason is going to ruin Marc.

Vale comes with a content moan, but the afterglow fades unusually quickly.

”I- better leave,” the other stammers, cheeks slightly red, as if he’s only now realizing what he’s done. That he’s slept with the enemy.

”Sure,” Vale says it with a nonchalant shrug. “Go ahead.”

He has everything he wanted, has taken his picture while they were sneaking inside the hotel room, the older in Vale’s arm, both of them smiling widely and hungrily. The sex wouldn’t even have been necessary, but Vale thinks it kind of was required anyway, the knowledge of having had what Marc wants and can’t get just too rewarding.

He sends the photo when the other has left and adds a caption, a last piece of _advice_ for the little bastard who learned so much from him, but who’s not quite ready to outplay him yet.

_Maybe ask your manager where he spent the night?_

_And your word is worth nothing_  
_When it’s at someone else’s cost…_


	6. Offers and Offerings (I/II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What if it was a deal after all? ;)
> 
> (I got a couple of heartbreaking message b/c of the end of Push me to the Floor and I just wanted to say I'm sorry if it upset you. I obviously don't mean that any of it is real or that either of the two are half as evil as I made them. This OBVIOSLY is completely fictional. Though maybe I wouldn't mind so much if it wasn't.)

_Valencia, Sunday night (before the gala)_

“Your key?“

Marc is leaning against the wall next to him, smirking at him. For a second, Jorge is about to say how the younger must be kidding. How this is completely insane. Impossible. But something deep inside him wipes all reason from his brain – maybe the adrenaline? Or the champagne? – and he rummages for the keycard, hands it over to Marc with shaky fingers. All through it, Jorge keeps his eyes on the ground, evading the dirty grin the younger is sporting now.

”You won’t regret it,” Marc whispers in his ear before disappearing. Jorge is left shivering and with his breath caught in his throat and a half-hard cock.

_Valencia, Friday night_

”So, how much do you want that title?”

Jorge’s head jerks up, meeting Marc’s eyes and staring at the younger. The Majorcan has no idea where this is coming from, Marc Marquez stalking him in _his_ hospitality and, even more confusing, a knowingly smiling Dani Pedrosa in tow.

”What do you want?”

Jorge reacts grumpy. Because it’s Marc, because it can’t mean anything good. And because it’s the weekend of decision and he’s just overall tense and thin-skinned.

”Well, you know… we might be just the help you need in that race…” Marc lets the words hang in the air and they slowly think in, Jorge’s brain processing the information.

”Okay,” he says, coughing hoarsely, “I don’t know how much you guys are making at Honda but I doubt you’d have any incentive to blackmail me for money, so… what are you trying to say?”

”Oh, don’t worry,” Marc sits down next to him, while Dani keeps standing a bit away, smile still tugging on the older rider’s lips, “we’re not here for money. No… our idea is a bit different.”

Jorge should walk away, that would be the wise thing to do. But it’s the title that’s on offer… so, how could he?

”Tell me about that idea then,” he says, downing his remaining water and letting his eyes dart back and forth between his rivals.

”Okay,” Marc says, smile cheery as usual, “I’ll explain. So, you know, there’s this thing we want to try…”

_Valencia, Sunday night (after the gala)_

On the way back to his hotel, Jorge feels the nervousness creep through his veins. The entire evening has passed in a blur, not at all like his previous titles. Tonight, he can’t focus on anything but the anticipation – and fear? – of what’s about to happen. And he still can’t believe that it’s going to happen at all, that the Honda riders are seriously, honestly asking him for _this_. Hell, two days ago he didn’t even know they were into guys. Or into each other. Jorge gulps. He most certainly never thought either of them was into him. But one or both must be, otherwise _this_ wouldn’t have come up.

When the taxi driver tells him the price, he’s so far gone that he has to ask again. And his legs shake all the way up to his room. He stares at the door for quite a while and he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t contemplate just leaving. But first of all, he gave them his word and Jorge Lorenzo doesn’t break deals. Secondly, maybe more importantly, a dark and normally well-hidden part of him is dying to do this, to find out how it will feel, is craving this even. 

His fingers tremble and he’s clumsy, but he manages to slide the keycard down and unlock the door and when he enters the room, he barely manages to kick the door shut behind him before he freezes in the doorway.

”Hi Jorge.”

He should say something… but what? And how? His mouth is completely dry and his brain is short-circuiting, not a single clear thought left. All he can do is look or stare. At the hotel bed – his hotel bed – where, on immaculate white linen, Dani Pedrosa is sitting, back against the headboard. And only wearing dark jeans, no shirt. Jorge can’t look away from the older rider’s toned abs, tan skin glowing in the nicely lit room.

”Marc should be here any second… why don’t you come and sit with me?”

Dani’s voice is lower than usual, velvety. It goes straight to Jorge’s cock. He manages the way to the bed without falling over his feet, which is a first success. And he’s grateful for the miniature bottle from the minibar that Dani hands him as soon as he’s sitting down. Like a timid schoolboy, on the edge of the mattress, trying to keep his eyes from Dani’s – admittedly perfect – body.

”Relax, okay?” Dani whispers into his neck, making Jorge’s hair stand up and his body shudder.

The knock against the door saves him and Dani goes to open, Marc entering with a broad smile. He’s lost his tie and jacket, shirt half unbuttoned, too. And while Jorge still sits there not knowing what to do with himself, Dani walks up to his newly arrived teammate and with Jorge gasping audibly, presses his lips against Marc’s violently.

Jorge can’t help staring at them, can’t look away. They look gorgeous, sinful, the way they’re devouring each other. And they’re definitely not new at this, every gesture seeming effortless, each apparently well acquainted with the other’s body and his likes and needs.

”Don’t forget about our guest,” Dani says eventually, his voice breathless. He looks gorgeous like this, messy hair and glistening lips and Jorge would love a taste of his own.

”I’d never.” Marc is grinning at him now, making Jorge shiver again. _God, you’re gorgeous, too. Your eyes… how did I never notice your eyes?_

Marc steps out of his shoes and socks and then he is stalking towards him already, Jorge’s heart almost beating its way out of his chest now. Marc sits on his lap without hesitation, unmistakable hardness against Jorge’s groin. And it’s not like Jorge isn’t hard. God, he’s so hard it almost hurts.

”You know,” Marc cups his face and stares into his eyes and Jorge understands Dani so well, now that the two midnight black drops are holding him captive, “I’ve wanted this for a long time. We have.”

Marc kisses his forehead and while Jorge’s eyes fall closes and his fingers clench into the sheets, Marc’s mouth moves down the bridge of Jorge’s nose until his lips are on Jorge’s. Marc’s lips are soft, much softer than Jorge would have thought and he doesn’t dare to move or breathe. The younger keeps the initiative, fingers gently exploring Jorge’s face, running over his head. Countless shivers run down his spine and Marc chuckles against his lips for a moment. Then Marc’s tongue carefully probes Jorge’s mouth, wordlessly asking to be let in. The Majorcan allows it to happen, completely hooked, transfixed by the situation, incapable to stop _this_. And the kiss is a surprise, because it’s not at all like Marc rides. Instead of dominance or aggression, it’s full of sweetness and gentleness, slow and sensual. It takes Jorge a moment to realize that he is making the soft, moaning noises that surround them. When oxygen gets scarce, Marc pulls away and after taking a deep breath, Jorge opens his eyes, finding Marc’s and Dani’s gazes on himself, four eyes with wide-blown pupils staring at him full of desire. It makes his cock twitch impatiently.

”You’re still in?” Dani’s voice, slightly hoarse.

Jorge locks gazes with the older and nods determinedly.

”I’m all in.”


	7. Offers and Offerings (II/II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much ♥  
> PWP tonight :)

As soon as the words are out, Jorge feels another shiver run down his spine, because that’s it, no escape anymore.

”Just let me,” Marc mumbles, still in his lap, fingers unbuttoning Jorge’s shirt.

Marc’s moves are efficient and gentle at the same time, his tongue following his hands by licking and kissing every inch of skin. Somehow, the younger manages to get him half-naked without ever making him feel exposed. And then he’s kneeling in front of the bed, between Jorge’s legs, looking up hungrily.

The mere sight, Marc below him, looking up through long lashes, face flushed, it’s enough to make Jorge moan a little. He also nods, almost frantically, hoping Marc is about to do what it looks like.

”Go ahead,” Dani says and Jorge had almost forgotten about the older. When he looks at him now, Dani is still leaning against the wall, arms folded in front of his naked and perfectly sculpted chest. He’s smirking at them and Jorge thinks he’s hard, too, but hiding his desire way better. While he feels Marc’s fingers on his fly, he sees Dani step out of his pants and gulps, the bulge in Dani’s boxers larger than he’d expected. Dani joins him on the bed and while Jorge is trembling from Marc’s touch, the younger just getting him out of his pants and underwear, Dani is pressing against his back now. The older is hot as a furnace and his hands are roaming over Jorge’s chest, not missing an inch.

”You’re so hot,” Dani whispers and Jorge gasps as he pinches one of his nipples.

”Ready?” Marc again, voice eager and hands stroking the inside of Jorge’s thighs teasingly.

Of course he’s ready, of course he nods like a maniac. And damned, that little bastard is an overachiever in every aspect of life it seems. And that’s Jorge’s last coherent thought when the younger Honda rider swallows him down whole, apparently not even knowing what a gag reflex is.

Jorge is caught in waves of pleasure, eyes rolling back in his head and curses falling from his hips. The sensations of Marc’s perfect mouth around his cock, Dani’s gentle fingers in his hair, Dani’s lips in his neck it’s good, so good. Jorge grips bunches of fabric, knuckles going white already and this might just be over embarrassingly quickly, especially if Marc keeps that trick up, the one where he swallows around him and teases his hole with a spit-slicked finger.

”Stop,” Dani says eventually, own fingers freezing in Jorge’s neck. Marc pulls away immediately and Jorge whines desperately.

He feels exposed, cold air blowing over him. It takes a moment for him to catch his breath, to release the iron grip from the sheets and to take in his surroundings. He’s surprised to find Marc and Dani both completely naked now – because when has that happened? And he feels his cheek burn, embarrassed about his neediness, his immediate loss of control.

”So, ready?” Dani eyes him curiously, eyes full of want. But Jorge, for whatever reason, trusts the older. A lot. Trusts him to slow this down as much as Jorge needs to. Actually, he thinks if he’d say no now, they’d stop. Even if he already has his title. But he trusts Dani, and even Marc, enough to think they wouldn’t make him. But after this intro, Jorge does want. Everything and more. Not that he’s no longer scared, part of him is pretty much terrified, but he’s also greedy for more.

”Yeah,” he says, his voice rougher than he’d expected.

Dani wraps him into an embrace as response, kisses him. And just like Marc’s, Dani’s kisses are sweet and loving and that’s unexpected and beautiful. It also sends little bolts of electricity down Jorge’s body, makes his cock twitch again. Eventually, when he’s explored his mouth thoroughly, Dani positions him on his stomach, a pillow under his lap. 

”Don’t worry, we’ll make this so good for you,” the older almost purrs and somehow, Jorge doesn’t doubt it for a second.

When he feels a cool finger between his cheeks, he spreads his legs further, presses his face deep into the pillows to suppress the impatient growl. Dani’s hands are in his hair, massaging his scalp gently, so it must be Marc who’s prepping him, slowly and tenderly. Long, slick fingers move in and out of him in a perfect rhythm, eventually hitting his prostate with each move and making him writhe and moan. All the while, Dani is massaging him, whispering sweet little nothings into his ear. For Jorge, time is floating now, everything getting clouded. He’s reduced to feeling, his mind far gone and his body only wanting and needing, responding eagerly to every bit of attention it gets.

”I think he’s set to go.” Jorge barely registers Marc’s voice, much less understands the words. He only feels him withdraw his fingers and Jorge wails, not liking the way he’s left, untouched and horny and so vulnerable and open.

”Don’t worry, we just need to shift you a bit,” Dani whispers into his neck, chuckles against his skin. Jorge feels his face burn. It’s humiliating just how much he wants this, needs this. Hell, he’d beg for it.

”You’ve got to sit up though, love.”

The endearment barely filters through the haze of pleasure, but Jorge files it away for later, when his brain has regained some capacities. Now, he props himself up on trembling arms, looking at a tenderly smiling Dani who helps him up his knees and kisses him, again, taste of mint and champagne familiar already.

Before this night, Jorge admittedly had wondered a fair bit about the possible logistics for it, but either the Honda riders have done this before or they’ve made a damned good plan. Either way, they sure know what they’re doing, Marc flat on his back now, feet and calves hanging over the edge of the bed. Jorge realizes how they’re going to do this and moves to straddle him, grateful for Dani behind him, the older making sure he doesn’t fall over or from the bed and littering his neck with little kisses that make his skin tingle.

Before he sinks down, he takes a moment to look at Marc, marveling the chiseled muscles in his chest and absolutely captivated by his face, the eyes midnight black now and his lips glistening. The younger smiles encouragingly and puts his hands on Jorge’s shoulder, guiding him in his moves. And he moans, guttural sound echoing through the room and making Jorge rather proud.

With Marc bottomed out, he fills full and that’s when the worries creep back in, because right now, he cannot imagine that their plans will work. He just doesn’t see how. It’s Marc’s hand pulling him down for a violent kiss that distract him, copper taste of blood in his mouth and his cock quickly rock-hard again, trapped between their stomachs. He cries out when Marc’s tentative thrusts hit their aim and Marc manages to find the exact same stop with each move now, so Jorge is quickly back to his floating state of mind, vision greying out and body trembling from need. He might be mewling into Marc’s mouth, but he can’t really tell anymore.

Still, Jorge’s entire body goes rigid the moment he feels Dani’s finger, trying to breach him. Dani withdraws immediately and Jorge has a moment to relax, before there’s the feeling of something else, wet and hot. He almost comes when he realizes that it’s Dani’s tongue, licking the skin around his stretched hole. The thought alone… it’s absolutely mind-blowing. After all, Dani Pedrosa is kneeling behind him and licking his ass. Passionately. As if he’s been wanting to do this for years.

”You’re so damned hot,” Marc whispers under him and Jorge can’t help it, he feels so flattered by the doubled attention, the affection they’re both showing towards him.

When Dani tries again, after probing with his tongue for an eternity, Jorge and Marc are both sweating with exhaustion already, but it finally works, Dani’s fingers sliding in slowly, first one and then a second.

Jorge pants helplessly, tries to relax with all his power. It still hurts.

”You’re doing great, I’m sure you’ll make it,” Marc mumbles against his neck, hands caressing his back.

It takes forever to adjust and just when it’s become bearable, Dani removes his hand and then there’s the pressure of another cock, blunt and huge, against Jorge’s hole.

When he cries out this time, it’s not from lust, only from sheer, excruciating pain. He barely hears the comforting words they’re both whispering, barely feels their caresses now. The pain is too intense, covering everything else, burning red hot in Jorge’s veins.

Then, Marc moves, only the tiniest, but once again hitting just the right spot. And even under the thick haze of pain, it still feels amazing, still makes Jorge moan a bit. It also makes him relax, which is just what they all needed. Finally, he releases the breath he’d been holding and from then on, it’s amazing. Not that it stops hurting, but it turns into the most breathtaking mix of pleasure and pain. Under him, Marc moves his hips, sending jolts of lust through all of them and Jorge is trapped between their bodies, feeling their heat. Dani sucks a bruise into his neck and he just lets everything wash over himself, waves and waves of pleasure.

Everything is hot and sweaty and it smells like sex and a mix of their aftershaves as they fill the room with moans and whines and the sound of flesh against flesh. Jorge doesn’t know how long it lasts, doesn’t care, cannot track anything but his own need which is growing and growing. His orgasm builds steadily, deep in his stomach until his vision fades completely and he screams from pain and pleasure while his world explodes into fireworks.

Everything after that is a blur, he vaguely notices the other two cry out, barely registers Dani collapsing on top of him. Dani withdraws and Marc disentangles from him as well, but Jorge doesn’t really feel it, though he notices some discomfort and in the back of his head, he knows he’ll hurt for a while. Right now though, he’s content with just lying here, breathing and letting the world wash over him. He doesn’t know if it’s Marc or Dani who wipes his stomach clean, feels too weak to even open his eyes. They both curl up against him and he’s vaguely aware that sleeping over wasn’t part of the initial deal – but he couldn’t care less, not with the hottest guys from the paddock sharing the sheets with him, kissing him goodnight and feeling so wonderful in his hold. And Jorge drifts away with the images of the Honda boys kissing burned to his memory and his last thought is that even if this all blows up in their faces, even if he'll be sore for a month, that image of Dani and Marc kissing so lovingly yet passionately at the same time, that image would have been worth everything by itself already.

**Author's Note:**

> Most quotes from "Walk through the fire", Joss Whedon (*I'm bringing Buffy back*)


End file.
